


Strictly Flitty

by Tamatoa



Category: The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Closeted Character, Extended Scene, M/M, another English class thing I thought was gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamatoa/pseuds/Tamatoa
Summary: Before you read this, it wasn’t my goddamn idea or anything. It just happened. It really did. Maybe it was kind of nice in the moment and all, but remember that I’m no flit. At least, I think.





	1. Yearbook Handsome

**Author's Note:**

> this came from reading catr in class out loud and people making this one scene really gay sounding thanks for coming to my ted talk

“Holden. If I let you up, will you keep your mouth shut?” 

I didn’t even answer him. 

He said it over again. “Holden. Please. If I let you up, will you keep your mouth shut?” This time, old Stradlater sort of quieted down, like he wasn’t even angry with me for trying to take a swing at him. It sounded quite a lot like the tone of voice he had used with that girl in the back seat, when he was snowing her and acting all sincere and all, and that made me mad. 

“Yes.” I said. I said it very calmly, and stopped shifting around under him even though he weighed about a ton and my ribs felt like they were bruising. I told you I was a terrific liar. I was waiting for him to let his guard down, then I thought I’d slug him for real. I could have taken his head off, I was so mad at him. 

“Okay,” he said, still very sincerely. “But you’d better not try to hit me again.” I nodded and looked him in the eyes. That’s always what people in the goddamn movies are doing when they want to look trustworthy and all. It wasn’t really the best plan, because something about his eyes really did make me want to trust him, instead of the other way around. He had these very blue and piercing movie-star eyes, and he was looking down at me with his head sort of turned to the side like he was concerned for my goddamn wellbeing or something. 

Stradlater let go of my wrists very slowly, but I kept them right where he had left them because both of his hands went straight to the sides of my face. I almost forgot how to breathe. “For chrissakes, Holden, are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” He asked. He sounded scared as hell, too. I guess my eyes must have been sort of unfocused, what with all my trying not to get too incredibly lost in his eyes and all. I didn’t even know what to look at. He looked like he could see what I was thinking or something. People are always scaring me like that, so I’m always thinking some crazy thoughts once in a while in case they’re listening. That way, they’ll laugh and give themselves away.

“I’m fine. Let me up, you goddamn moron. You’re crushing me.” I finally remembered how to move my hands, so I tried to shove him off. He didn’t get up or anything, but he did at least shift around and move his goddamn knees off my chest. The way he was still sitting on me, his hands on my face and all, was starting to look very flitty. I wouldn’t have minded too much— not that I’m a flit or anything, it’s just that he’s a pretty handsome guy and not the most terrible to have your face held by and all— only I was sort of worried that old Ackley might come barging in through the goddamn shower curtains like he was always doing. He probably wouldn’t have, because he usually knew when Stradlater was around and he only really liked barging into our room when it was just me around for him to bother. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense for it. It really is. 

I couldn’t really think much about old Ackley anyways. While I had been worrying about us getting caught, Stradlater had been talking to me practically the whole time, and I hadn’t caught a single word of it. I forget to listen to other people talking quite frequently. Usually I don’t miss much, just phony conversations about some ballgame or some guy’s new car, but I guess I must have looked concussed as hell while I was spacing out this time. I didn’t think I had even hit the floor very hard, but I didn’t remember much except getting hit and sort of falling with Stradlater ending up on top of me somehow. Anyways, I finally tuned in to what he was saying. 

“Please just open your eyes and look at me. Do I need to call the nurse?” He asked, which was pretty stupid. It killed me. If I had needed the nurse, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell him in the first place. Guys at Pencey were always asking stupid questions. The place was lousy with them. 

That one question was at least sort of helpful, though, because I hadn’t even realized that my eyes were closed until he asked me to open them. I blinked a few times, then looked up at him. 

“I’m fine. I already told you.” I said, sounding a lot less reassuring than I meant to. I guess he thought I sounded fine, because he finally got up and reached out a hand to help me up. I took his hand to act like there weren’t too many hard feelings, even though I was still angry as hell at the idea of him and Jane Gallagher in the back of old Ed Banky’s car. He hadn’t given her the time, I was sure of it, but I still didn’t like knowing that he’d probably tried. It gave me a headache. Actually, it was probably all the fighting and landing on the floor and all that had given me a headache, but thinking about it gave me one too. On top of all that, he was still looking at me like he expected me to keel over and die any second, with his arm sort of half out and ready to catch me, which was about as much use to me as a hole in the head. If I did die, it wouldn’t matter any if I hit the floor again during it or not. I guess it was sort of nice, that he cared about it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, very sincerely but not as phony-sounding as before. “I shouldn’t have hit you like that. You could have gotten concussed or something.”

I was still feeling sore towards him, so I sat down on my bed, very nonchalantly, and said what I had been thinking the whole time. I didn’t even care if he hit me again for it. “You could have been more of a decent person about Jane. Girls love it when you remember their first names and don’t try to give them the time on the first goddamn date.” 

“Jesus, this again?” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated as hell. “I didn’t even try to give her the time! She talked my ear off about some play she was in, then got a headache and wanted to go home. What is it with you and wanting to know every detail of my sex life, for chrissakes?” 

“I don’t—“

“Yes, you do! It’s pretty annoying, and if you want to know the truth, flitty as hell!”

“How’s it flitty to—“

“Just shut up! You know exactly what you’re doing, so just drop it! I know what all those guys on the fencing team say about me.” He paused for about a millionth of a second, then got nervous as hell and started pacing around the room. “They probably told you to ask me how it went with Jean, and then— yeah, that sounds like them. Jesus. I’ve told them, I’m not—“

Finally, I interrupted him. I was getting sick as hell of him interrupting me, and none of what he was saying made any goddamn sense anyways. “I don’t know anything about what the fencing team says about you. They think I’m strictly a moron after I left all the foils on the subway and all. They didn’t tell me to do anything.”

Old Stradlater got quiet then, not really looking at me, thinking about something else I guess. He was pretty goddamn absorbed in his own head, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary or anything for him. All of a sudden, he looked at me with this very confused expression on his face, and I realized that I had been sort of staring or watching him the whole time. I couldn’t help it. I had been trying to get another look at his eyes, without even realizing it until they were fixed on me again. When he was all confused and still sort of nervous, he looked a hell of a lot nicer than he usually did— that goddamn phony, overconfident look, I mean— and if I could have, I might have kept on looking at him like that for hours. I really might have, only all of a sudden he was grabbing the front of my shirt, pulling me in like he was going to hit me again, only this time his other hand ended up on the back of my head and he was kissing me.


	2. let’s experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this was meant to be a oneshot, I’m getting invested in it now lmao 
> 
> this fic is gaining notes at an alarming rate thanks everyone

I opened my mouth to ask what the hell Stradlater thought he was doing, but all that did was let his tongue into my mouth. I hadn’t ever kissed anyone like this— I mean, I’d kissed girls, but none of them had been so goddamn domineering. One of his hands sort of settled between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned close as hell up against his chest. I noticed my own hands shaking, so I grabbed onto his shoulders to keep him from noticing. I didn’t want him to think I was scared or anything. 

Finally, he pulled away to get some air. “Jesus, Holden. I wish you had at least said— never mind. I don’t know how you’d even bring it up. I mean, I thought I was the only guy at Pencey who...” He laughed, then held me at arms’ length to look me over.

I was still sort of shaken by the whole thing. Out of everyone at Pencey, old Stradlater was just about the last guy I’d have guessed was a flit. He just didn’t fit the picture. Star athletes who were rumored to have given the time to about as many girls as you could think of didn’t just go off and decide to... go all flitty. It didn’t make sense, him thinking I was a flit too, either. I mean, sure, I thought some guys were pretty handsome, but anyone can tell if someone looks good. You didn’t have to be a flit to see that Stradlater was athletic and handsome as hell— you only had to look at all the girls following him around after baseball games. Or you could look into his goddamn movie-star blue eyes, like I was doing for about the hundredth time that day. 

Still, there wasn’t anything flitty about that. 

I finally decided to say something about it. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that the fencing team was giving you crap for being sort of a flit and all, but the thing is, I’m—“

He shushed me. What a rude bastard.

“Holden, it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you, for chrissakes, I’m proud of you! It takes a lot to admit... I mean, you’re braver than me. I’ve thought about this for a long time, though.” He looked sort of embarrassed, running a hand through his goddamn perfect hair. “Jane and I talked about you. Actually, she told me that she had always sort of suspected— she said you never even did anything but kiss her, and you always looked like you had something on your mind— she’s the one who really convinced me to go for it. Not tonight, but eventually.” 

Throughout the whole time I was listening to him, I was getting even more confused and nervous as hell. Old Stradlater had been even phonier than I ever imagined the whole time, just posturing and acting like he had given the time to Jane when all they had done was speculate about how flitty I was. I wondered how many other guys were like that. Not just at Pencey, but in the whole world. 

“Holden?” 

There he was again, concerned and charming as hell, and if I had really been a flit, I probably would have swooned on the spot and professed my undying love or some crap like that. But I’m not, so all I did was look up at him like a moron and sort of wait for him to say anything else. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

I was completely lost for words. On one hand, this whole goddamn situation was messed up, and I should have told him that I was no flit right off the bat. On the other, it was sort of late for that, and the first time hadn’t been too bad. Or bad at all, really. I felt both of my arms reach out and go around his shoulders, and then it was really too late to change my mind. 

One thing led to another, and pretty soon we were both falling over onto Stradlater’s bed. He landed right on top of me for the second time that night, but it was a lot nicer than before, because this time he was careful to catch himself with one arm so he wouldn’t crush me so much. He stopped kissing me and looked right into my eyes. “Have you ever done this before?” 

I looked up at him, and he looked just as nervous as I felt. “No. Have you? Like, with a guy and all?” 

“No.” He blushed, then looked away for a second, saying the last part so quietly I barely heard it. “With anyone.” 

If Stradlater hadn’t been on top of me, I would have fallen off the goddamn bed at hearing that. “Anyone? But you’re so—“

“Rumors spread easily. Sure, I go out with a lot of girls, but most of them actually like just getting to talk or go see a movie without anyone making a move on them.” He rolled off to the side, then looked up at the ceiling. The bed was just wide enough for both of us. “I figured that you hadn’t either, I guess. Hardly anyone at Pencey has, for all they talk about it.” 

I almost got offended, but he was right. That was just another phony as hell thing about Pencey. “Did you want to do anything?” I asked, regretting it practically as soon as the words were out of my mouth. There was no pretending that I wasn’t at least a little bit flitty after that. 

He shifted over onto his side, so I copied him and we ended up facing each other. “Only if you wanted to. We don’t have to, if you’re nervous about it.”

Typical. He was pushing off the hard decisions on me. And distracting me by putting his hand on my waist, right where my shirt had ridden up. I shivered, not because I was scared or anything, but because I didn’t expect it. 

“So?” His hand slid down to rest on my hipbone, squeezing a little in what was probably meant to be a reassuring way. 

I guess I had been taking a long as hell time to think. It’s not easy to decide whether or not you’re a flit, you know. I took a deep breath, then smiled. Charming as hell. “Okay. Let’s experiment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliffhanger but more will come soon ily


	3. The Closet is for Phonies

Neither of us even moved for what felt like ages. I didn’t know where to start, and I was a hell of a lot more nervous than I was going to let on about. I got so lost in thought again that I almost missed what Stradlater said next. 

“So, do you want me to suck you off, or what?”

I nearly had a goddamn heart attack. “What? Sure, I mean, if you’re okay with that? It’s fine, I’m fine, I—“

He cut me off for about the hundredth time that night. He really needed to quit doing that. “You’re being so weird about this. Haven’t you done it before?” 

“No! You have? With who?” I took a breath, then thought some more about it. “Wait, you told me that you hadn’t done anything flitty.” 

“This doesn’t count. If you had more of a social life, you’d know that already. I know guys who do this all the time.” He started to look concerned as hell all over again. “I thought it would help you calm down.” 

Nothing could have been further from the truth. I was freaking the hell out just from having his hands on me. At least they weren’t cold. If I had gotten the chance to panic about maybe being a flit a few days earlier, I would have appreciated it a hell of a lot more, but as it was, I felt about ready to throw up. Still, I’m a pretty terrific liar, so I decided to shoot the old bull with him and keep going. Just to see what would happen and all. “I am calm.” 

“It’s okay. I know what it’s like to be nervous about these things.” He pulled me in closer and tried to kiss me again, but I looked away. The kiss landed on the corner of my mouth, like in some phony romantic film. “I’ll make it good, I promise.” 

“Great.” I smiled at him, then leaned in and kissed him again. His whole face lit up like he had just won the goddamn state championship of giving the time, and I rolled my eyes. “Knock yourself out, moron.” 

About half a second later, he was reaching over to get his hand down my pants. The whole thing still seemed awkward as hell. All his shifting around and sliding down the bed to make himself comfortable between my legs didn’t help, either. I guess it must have been pretty nerve-wracking on his end too, because it took him ages to settle down and actually do anything once he got there. 

I didn’t mean to snap at him, but leaning up against the headboard of a crumby dorm bed while some moron takes your pants off at a snail’s pace gets old pretty quickly. It really does. “Sometime today, maybe?” He looked up at me with that goddamn phony film-star smile like he had really gotten a bang out of that, then went right back to what he had been doing. What he had been doing was sort of sliding his hands up my shirt, then back down to my waistband. Exploring, I guess. Still, it made me self-conscious as hell. I mean it. 

He leaned down, and I thought he was finally about to start, but he just shifted himself up to lay his head on my chest. “Hey,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about anything. Chrissakes, Holden, you don’t even know how long I’ve been thinking about this.” 

That really threw me off. I mean it. Just thinking about how long exactly he might have been in love with me— no. Not in love. That was too much to process, and I didn’t even want to start thinking about it. Instead, I put my hand in his goddamn gorgeous hair and tugged a little bit— not hard or anything, just to make him look up at me. “I think I’ve got some idea.” 

When he looked up, he was blushing again. Even embarrassed, he was still handsome and charming as hell, I guess. “I really tried not to be obvious. I didn’t know if you’d hate me if you found out.” He glanced away for a long time, then mumbled the next bit so I could hardly even hear it. “That feels nice.” 

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about until I realized I still had my hand in his hair. I was sort of petting it, which was flitty as hell, only I didn’t even care. I really mean it this time. “Did you still want to...”

“Oh! Yeah, definitely. If you’re okay now. You seem a lot less tense, and you’re pretty when— I mean, that’s pretty important. For this.” He rambled on for a while, but eventually got his hand down my shorts and around my dick. 

I clamped the hand that wasn’t in his hair over my mouth, because otherwise I probably would have screamed when he first put his mouth on me. He licked over the head a few times first, slow and gentle as hell and still looking right at me, then took all of it into his mouth. After that, everything sort of blurred together. 

At some point he slid his hands down to pin my hips to the bed, probably so I wouldn’t thrash around and choke him or something. It was hard to keep still, with him practically sucking out my soul every time his tongue slid up against me. “Strad— ah,” I grabbed a handful of his hair and tried to pull him off, “Ward, I’m—“ 

He either didn’t hear me or didn’t care, because all he did was dig his nails into my hipbones and moan around my dick as I came down his throat. I barely got my hand back over my mouth in time to stifle my own moan, but my brain was too fried to even care if old Ackley was in his room to hear. 

Finally it was over. Ward leaned back and propped himself up on his elbows to look at me expectantly. 

“Wow. So that was,” I let out a deep breath and leaned back on the headboard, “A lot.” 

Ward glanced up from zipping up my jeans, then licked his lips. “Chrissakes, is that good?” 

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m the flittiest goddamn moron on the planet.” 

“No,” he paused for dramatic effect, winking like some crumby pin-up girl, “I am!”

“Are not!” 

“Watch this!” He surged forward, practically knocking me out against the headboard with a bruising kiss, shoving his tongue into my mouth and cradling my face in his hands. 

I pulled away and glared indignantly. “You rude bastard, I wasn’t ready!” 

Ward’s smile turned softer, and he leaned back to sit in my lap. Studying me. “Are you ready now, Holden?” 

I felt my mouth go dry. Goddamnit. I really was in love. Flitty, sappy, cliche-as-hell and honest-to-god love. “Yeah.” I looked into his goddamn gorgeous movie-star eyes, and any phoniness I had seen before was completely evaporated. I wondered if I had done that. “I guess I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a really long time. I procrastinated a lot, but it’s here now and that’s what matters. As a gay man, this story has become really personal to me, and I hope that everyone else who had some trouble working out their inner flittiness gets a bang out of reading this last chapter. Thanks a million to everyone who commented or left kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> cliffhanger i know but i feel weird writing the next part at school oof


End file.
